


Dirty Revenge

by sconelover



Series: Heroverse [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Superheroes, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Forest Sex, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Missing Scene, Power Play, Roleplay, Smut, Superheroes, Villains, companion fic, fake fighting, heroverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconelover/pseuds/sconelover
Summary: A missing scene is on the loose, and it’s up to The Golden Blade and Vampire to find it!“(That is to say, we practised until the fight devolved into some activities against a tree that definitely were not fight-outside-Town-Hall-approved.)” -Chapter 17, Holding Out For a HeroForest blowjobs, roleplay, and godlike displays of superhero strength.Contains spoilers forHolding Out For a Hero.Takes place between Chapters16and17.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Heroverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713400
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	Dirty Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Have some superhero smut! Anything to keep this AU alive. I’d recommend reading Holding Out For a Hero before you read this, but if you haven’t, you might still enjoy it! Click through to the end notes for some quick background that you’ll need (and mild spoilers). 
> 
> Huge thanks to my amazing betas [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias), [xivz,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivz/pseuds/xivz/works) and [coolcoolcool_nodoubt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coolcoolcool_nodoubt/pseuds/Coolcoolcool_nodoubt), you are awesome!!! ❤️

**Simon**

“So I’ll spin around,” I say, practicing the motion, “and kick you…  _ here. _ ” I raise my leg in slow motion and plant my foot onto Baz’s chest, showing him the spot.

“Should I stumble?” he says. “Or fall?”

I mentally count the number of moves we’ve rehearsed. Not enough time has passed. “Just stumble,” I say. “And then we’ll move out of the smoke cloud…”

“I’ll say something provocative.”

“You don’t need to rehearse  _ that  _ part,” I say.

Baz grins. “And then just rush me. You know, that human wrecking ball bit you always do.”

I jog towards him and throw a false tackle to the right. “Dodge this, and I’ll roll when I hit the ground.” I kneel and tumble in slow motion, then turn to face him. “Then you fire—left, right, left. Try not to actually hit me.”

“No promises,” he says. He mimes firing and I dodge before lunging up to him and grabbing his upper arms, pinning them behind him. Our chests are flush, hips leaning close. “Is this the next move?” he says quietly.

Baz looks gorgeous today. He always does, but today he has this headband on to keep his hair out of his face, and the rest of it is falling in soft waves along the nape of his neck. I can’t help but wonder if he wears this headband under the mask…

We’re both in regular workout clothes so he’s probably half as deadly as he usually is, but his grey eyes flash dangerously. I feel my mouth go dry, suddenly, as his eyes meet mine and his arms strain to free themselves from my grasp.

“Yeah,” I finally say. “I’ll turn and look at the crowd, then you break free.”

“That wouldn’t work. You’d catch me immediately,” he says. 

“Then throw a punch,” I say. I follow the lines of his body with my eyes, finding weak spots. I’ve never seen him in joggers before; he has posh ones, from Lululemon. They cling to the muscles around his thighs and calves, and they make his arse look amazing. I haven’t been able to stop staring.

I bring his hand to my lower jaw.  _ “Here.”  _ I picture the blow in my mind, how to make it look real. “I’ll snap my head back, like this, then stumble, grab your wrist—then what?”

“If you did that in a real fight, I’d fly away,” he says. His hand is still on my face, and he pulls away and takes a step backwards through the isolated clearing, cracking a branch underfoot. “So I’ll rise a few feet, taking you with me. Then you should push off and fall.”

My sword is lying on the floor, and I eye it. “Is this a good time to pull out my sword?”

Baz’s eyebrow inches toward his hairline. “We’re completely alone. Anytime is a good time for me.”

I don’t think he’s talking about the metal blade on the ground.  _ “Baz.” _

“Do it. Might as well do the dramatic hero sword reveal too.”

I pick up the sword, then mime pulling it slowly out of its sheath and point it at his neck. He stares down the length of it calmly, but the way his gaze flickers up to mine gives him away. It leaves me wondering how many times we’ve done this—how many times  _ I’ve _ done this, and not known it was Baz behind the mask.

“Say something heroic,” he says.

“Something heroic.”

“Something sarcastic,” he responds, smirking. (Fuck, he’s gorgeous.)

“Will you still be in the air?” I ask.

He takes a large step back, away from the point of my sword. “I’ll fly backwards,” he says, “and then shoot forward and tackle you.”

“Care to demonstrate?”

He grins in a feral sort of way and jumps onto me, and I drop my sword as he knocks my arm aside. It’s more of a koala-bear hug than a real tackle, but I pretend to stumble back until I collapse to the floor, laughing. (He can’t actually knock me over, not without flying—he’s too light.) He has this  _ look _ in his eye—the mischievous, playful one I love, the one he reserves only for me.

Baz holds me to the floor with his whole body, and I feel him at every point we connect. Our knees, our chests, his arms braced beside my head. His mouth is inches from mine. I surge up to kiss him, and he leans down onto me, pressing me further into the ground.

We’ve been in this position plenty of times, just not quite like this. The last time we visited this secluded, deep part of the forest, I pinned him to the ground just like he’s doing to me now, demanding a reason to trust him. (It wasn’t any less sexy then—I just wasn’t fully aware.)

It’s fitting that we’ve come back to where our truce started to rehearse what is essentially an extended exercise in trust.

And possibly some other activities as well.

Baz jerks back from the kiss, arching an elegant eyebrow. “This isn’t in the script.”

He’s hovering above me in a plank, close enough to touch but  _ not touching me.  _ I let my eyes rake over him for an instant: his soft mouth, and sharp chin, and the way his shirt clings to his sides and narrow hips. 

Baz is so fucking  _ beautiful.  _ Dangerously, sharply, agonizingly.

I want to touch him. Everywhere. I want him to touch me.

I take him by the back of his neck and pull him back onto me. “Shh. These are important skills to practice, you know.”

Touching, but not like we did last night, all soft kisses and whispered tenderness. I want to  _ wreck _ him. I want to attack him with my body, bite a bruise into his chest, pour all the strangled electric energy I have whirling around inside me into  _ something.  _

I want it rough and hard, both the conclusion and antithesis of a fight. 

I can sense the moment Baz admits defeat by how he settles himself onto me, bearing down his weight. I bring my hands up to slip under his shirt. I drag my fingers along the ridges of his spine, and he responds by twisting his hands into my hair. When he rolls his hips I can feel he’s already half-hard, and my own hips surge up in response. 

It feels  _ so good— _ like something bubbling up inside me, like fire licking up my insides, like heat and laughter and nerves all at once. 

Baz groans into my mouth and deepens the kiss, our mouths sliding together messily. He’s doing this thing with his tongue—licking along my bottom lip, then slipping it inside to tangle with my own, then pulling back again—teasing. He rocks against me again, and something between a moan and a whine escapes me.

I continue sliding my hands down his back, but before I can reach his arse he pulls my wrists away from his body and swiftly pins them above my head. It’s so hot that I let out an involuntary shudder of desire. 

“Will you keep them there?” His breath ghosts along my jawline. I nod.

He moves his hands to my shoulders and slowly, painstakingly…  _ confidently  _ starts kissing downwards. He’s done this before. 

* * *

**Baz**

This is relatively new territory for us. Kissing and a bit of groping was as far as we got last night after the meeting. (Not that it wasn’t spectacular. It was mind-blowing.)

But Simon doesn’t  _ seem  _ overwhelmed—he seems eager and just as turned on as I am. Which is good news, because I’ve wanted to do this to him for months.

I kiss down his chest, over his shirt, until I reach the hem, then tug upwards. Our eyes meet as I undress him and he gives me a lopsided little grin, which might be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

No, I take that back. This mole is it—the one next to his bellybutton. Or this one, right on his waistband. Simon’s chest, well… it’s what you’d expect from a superhero, but so much more, because it’s  _ Simon.  _ Tawny skin and a constellation of moles, and beneath that, swells of muscle. I run my hands over his pectorals, brushing over his nipples, and his breath hitches. And below that, his defined abdominals… he has eight.  _ Eight.  _ I duck my head and brush gentle kisses over all of them.

“Please,” he whines.

I press another ghost of a kiss to his bellybutton. “Please what?”

His hips twitch upward. “Just– something. I’m–” He bites his lip. “Anything.  _ More.” _

Simon’s chest is all living, breathing hills and valleys I could get lost in for hours. I did—I have—I must have spent an hour last night worshipping his chest.

Today’s goal is a little different. I push Simon’s shoulders back, shoving them against the base of a tree so he’s in a reclined seated position. I crawl up his body and kiss him hard, and I feel a rush of pleasure at the moan that coaxes out of him.

And another thing; his cock pressed firmly against my stomach, caught between our bodies. He still has his arms above his head, holding them against the tree now, and the sight is so sexy it makes my insides do a few flips.

“You get off on this, don’t you,” he murmurs.

I nip at his neck, and he whimpers. “On what?” I ask.

He looks down, meeting my eyes. “On being in control. Having me at your mercy, Vamp…”

A thrill runs through me at his words, straight down to my cock. My pulse is beating a frantic rhythm in my throat. I hold Simon’s eyes. “Maybe.”

“You like it.” He pushes his wrists against the tree, flexing his arm muscles just to show off. He’s so strong, but he’s vulnerable for me. Defenseless. He wants to be here—he trusts me. “It’s because you’re always losing when we fight.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are too. I understand why you’d want to have the upper hand, for once.” He grins smugly.

“You’re such a brat. Now stay put.”

“Or what?” he says. Brattily.

My eyes flicker to his hands, then back to his face. “Or I’ll make you, Blade.”

Simon’s eyes widen and he flushes deliciously. But he holds my gaze. “Then do it.”

I whip the elastic headband out of my hair and twirl it in my fingers. Simon swallows. “Sit up,” I say. 

The tree is narrow enough that his wrists meet when I pull his arms behind him. I twist the headband around them twice, just enough to keep it from falling off. 

“All right?” 

He stretches his arms, testing the bonds. “I don’t know. I think I could get out of this pretty easily…”

“You’re a menace.” I make another loop in the headband, snapping the elastic against his skin for effect. He hums his satisfaction as I come back around to face him. I drop to the floor, kneeling between his spread legs.

“You’ve got me this time, Vamp,” he says, eyes teasing. “What’s next on your evil agenda?”

I trail a finger down his jaw, and he shivers. “Oh, I have something in mind for you. ” 

I lean down and finally kiss him  _ hard  _ like I’ve wanted to all day, my whole body slamming down onto his. He’s responsive right away, his hips rising to grind against mine, his mouth moving a frantic pattern. He whimpers when I shift away, licking up the tender skin of his neck.

“This isn’t very villainous,” he breathes.

Oh, he wants villainous? I’ll show him  _ villainous. _

I slide down his body again, licking at his abs, before sucking a mark into the deliciously soft skin of his side. He moans and pushes up into my mouth. A trail of brown hair below points the way like a beacon, and I kiss every inch of it, coaxing whimpers out of him, until I reach his waistband. I run my fingers along it, and he sucks in a breath, his muscles tensing as he realises what I intend.

I look up. Simon’s expression has changed to a slightly nervous one. His face is flushed so prettily I almost reach up to kiss his cheeks. The cords in his neck stand out, taut. 

“Relax,” I say, breaking character for a moment. My gaze flickers down, then back up to his eyes. “I want you to feel good.” He swallows. “So just relax,” I say again.

He smiles, then. “Can’t really relax around my arch-nemesis, can I? You’ve got me tied up, in the forest, where anyone can walk by–”

I roll my eyes. “No one can get out here unless they’re a superhero, Snow, don’t worry–”

“Shh, it’s part of the thing.”

_ Oh.  _ Simon’s still smiling at me when I arrange my features into their most dastardly expression. “Fine,” I say in my mocking Vampire voice. “You asked for this, Goldilocks.” His eyes widen. “You’ve been asking for it for  _ ages.  _ And now I’ve got you right where I want you.”

I jerk away from his gaze and swiftly pull off his trousers. I have to stop myself from licking my lips at the sight of his hard cock straining against his briefs. I dart forward to press a kiss to the centre of it.

“Oh, God–” Simon’s cry dissolves into a muffled sound. I mouth upwards in a line from base to tip, then bite into his hipbone, eliciting another moan as I yank his pants off. 

When I look up, he’s already staring at me, eyes serious. 

“Blade,” I say deliberately, and his cock twitches a bit at the name.  _ Interesting. _ I file that tidbit away for later. “You and your ridiculous golden suit have caused me endless sexual frustration over the past several months. It’s been torture.” He looks incredulous, but it’s true. “It’s time to return the favour.”

“What does that–  _ ohh.”  _

I suck the tip of his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head. I grip the base with one hand while the other roams his stomach. He tastes like soap and sweat and salt. 

“Fuck, Baz–” he gasps. I sink deeper, and he groans. “You’re so good, fuck, yes,” he babbles. I hum around him, reaching my hand lower to fondle his bollocks, and he arches his back. “Ah–  _ mmn–” _

I press my fingers into the curve of his back, urge him closer. I stroke further back, eliciting a moan from Simon as I brush over the tender skin. His thighs are clenched, the muscles straining deliciously on either side of my shoulders.

His hips buck upwards, and I slam my hand over it harshly, shoving him back down. “Don’t move,” I order.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering closed. He’s flushed from his forehead to his shoulders.

Knowing that I have the stoic, domineering, Golden Blade writhing and panting under my touch sends a rush of heat through my veins. This is better than winning any fight.

I take his cock in my mouth again as far as I can, but I don’t move. Just hold myself there, then let my hands roam, teasing him. One along the hard lines of his stomach, upwards to encircle his nipples. One to caress his inner thighs. My fingers dip between them, softly running along his perineum. He gasps and shudders as I press further back.

I pull off his cock. “Is this okay?” I whisper.

Simon blinks a few times, as if coming back to reality. He’s bitten his lips so much they’ve turned a vivid red. “You’re trying to kill me,” he says weakly.

“That was my evil plot all along,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the underside of his cock. 

“It’s hardly the easiest way…”

“Is that a yes?” I tease him again, sucking just the tip into my mouth before pulling off once more. 

He whimpers, and I revel in the sound, brushing my fingers across his sensitive skin. “Yes.”

He gives the barest of thrusts as I take him into my mouth once again, and I rake my nails down his side, eliciting a long, low moan. I clamp my hand onto his hipbones again, digging my fingertips in.

“Fuck,  _ please,”  _ he growls.

The sound shoots down my spine, arcing like electricity across my body. Simon Snow  _ begging.  _ (The Golden Blade, begging.)

I lift my head. “Please  _ what?” _

He’s practically shaking with desire. When he looks down, his blue eyes burn into me. “Touch me,” he breathes.

So I do. Just not where he  _ wants _ to be touched. (Where I’d just asked if I could touch him, then proceeded not to—sometimes I surprise myself with my own capacity for malice.) I ghost my fingers up his body, reaching for his lips again. I straddle him, drag him to meet me by the hair, and he groans as our lips collide.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he mumbles.

I grind down against him and he meets me roughly, his hips moving in rhythm. I press my hands to his shoulders, push him further against the tough bark of the tree. “You want to undress me?” I ask.

“Yeah–” He shifts as if to do exactly that, but I swiftly reach up to catch his biceps, reminding him that his hands are tied. I smirk as he glares up at me in disbelief. 

“Too bad,” I say, arching a brow. I climb off him, and he struggles against his bonds, making a show of it. He’s fighting back—except he’s not. (He could definitely break that hair tie if he wanted to.) He  _ wants _ this. It’s incredibly sexy, and I barely maintain composure as I stand up. “You can watch.”

“I hate you,” he says as I peel off my sweaty workout clothes. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I settle back onto him in only my pants, then decide to continue where I left off. I bite my way down his body, pausing at his collarbones, his nipples. His body’s so responsive, twisting and tensing as I make my way downwards.

“Want to touch you–” he whines.

“Soon.”

I give his cock a few firm strokes, and he quivers as I brush my other hand further south again. I wrap my lips around him again, humming in response to his moans. His legs move to circle my body, his heels digging into my back.

His skin is soft and hot here, and he’s pleading as I stroke firmly along his perineum. He’s loud, and I’m not surprised. Simon’s all soft edges, but Blade’s always been quick to the rise, fervent and heated. He cries out as I finally press a finger against his hole, and it’s all Blade—impassioned, rising to the bait.

I circle my finger, teasing as my tongue roams his cock. I haven’t moved my head an inch, and he’s shaking with need. His cock throbs in my mouth. “Please,” he says again. “Baz–  _ please.” _

I slide my mouth off him. He stares at me through heavy lids as my fingers continue roaming, and I could come just from the look he gives me—wild and wanting. 

“Say my name, Blade.”

_ “Baz,”  _ he breathes again, and I shake my head.

“My  _ other _ name.” 

Simon’s mouth falls open, and it comes out as a half-formed word, half growl, as I swallow him down again.  _ “Vampire.” _

_ Fuck. _

I never thought I’d hear my pseudonym like  _ that.  _ Especially not in Simon’s voice… not when the moniker is usually hurled at me, spiky and biting. I never expected it to sound sexy.

I wish we had our costumes. What I’d give to see him like this—spread open and moaning my name, swathed in gold and white…

_ Fuck.  _

(It always seemed an unattainable fantasy. But judging by today’s events, I’d say he’d be more willing than I’d hoped.) 

“Mmm.” His hips twitch as I moan around him. I slide down, then back up, at an excruciatingly slow pace. Simon trembles.

“Please, fuck, yes, yes,” he groans. 

Slower still. Drawing it out of him—drawing out his moans, the way he’s pleading, begging for it…

“Fuck,  _ please,”  _ he whines. His skin is hot, and he’s sweating with the effort of not moving. He shifts his shoulders and adjusts his legs, giving me room to move.  _ “Vampire,” _ he says again, and my body’s on fire.  _ “Please.” _

My mind goes haywire with desire and I start moving in earnest. Simon cries out at the stimulation after I’ve been still for so long. “That’s it, yes,” he whines. He’s shaking, straining back against the tree. “Vamp,  _ ah _ –” His cock swells in my mouth as I press my fingers against him again–

And then I wrench myself off, so quickly it makes me dizzy.

Simon stares at me with an expression of utter betrayal. His mouth goes slack, his pupils blown wide. His cock is wet and straining; he’s only seconds from orgasm. “What…”

I tilt my head. “I  _ did _ say this was a revenge plot.”

“Fuck you,” he groans.

“If you wanted to, you could’ve just asked.” He laughs weakly. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on finishing the job,” I say.

“I had no doubt.” He’s still breathing hard. “You don’t do anything halfway.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I just did.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Fucking tease.”

“I’ll gladly claim that label.” I press a kiss to his lips, taking care not to touch him anywhere else. He lets out a frustrated whine. “You still want to undress me?” I ask.

“Of course.” 

“You can,” I say. I reach behind the tree and free his hands, but stop them as they eagerly reach for my waistband when I sit back down. “But only with your mouth.”

His eyes crinkle with mirth. “Oh, I like this game,” he says, before he unexpectedly springs forward and tackles me full-force.

I grunt as my back hits the forest floor. Simon’s got a knee on my leg and one hand on my shoulder. I’m staring at his hard cock, wishing I’d brought condoms and lube so he could just fuck me already. (But how could I have anticipated  _ this?) _

He tugs my head up by my hair, forcing me to look back into his eyes. Something sparks there—the thrill of combat, whatever alights within him when he fights. It’s when he truly comes alive, all his raw energy finally finding an outlet. (This is better than fighting. So much better.)

He’s pulling greedily at my hair as he leans down to kiss me, and he has me moaning against him in seconds. His movements are so frantic, so impatient. Graceless and brutish. I’m going to have bruises from the merciless way he has me pinned to the floor, but I couldn’t care less.

“You never lose composure, Vampire,” Simon accuses in between kisses. He starts blazing a trail down my body, leaving a chain of marks in his wake.

I suck in a breath as he licks a stripe below my navel. “I’d not be a proper supervillain if I did,” I manage to gasp out.

Five fingers digging sharply into my side. His other hand reaching down to palm at my arse. Just the top of his curly hair visible.

“Well then you’ll just have to be a bit improper today, won’t you?” he says. He looks up and smirks. “You know me. When I set my mind on something…”

I close my eyes, nearly drowning in pleasure as he nips roughly along my upper thighs. “You never give up, Blade.”

* * *

**Simon**

I want him to fall apart beneath me.

I want him to  _ let go. _

It feels like we’ve been building up to this with nearly a year of foreplay. Enough is enough.

I’m not gentle with him, I’ve never been gentle with him, and I can tell he likes it. We both like it like this—an echo of motions we’ve already been through.

When Baz was teasing me earlier I thought I was going to lose my mind. He brought me to the brink and then just  _ stopped. _

But that’s Vampire, isn’t it? He’s always teasing, taunting. He’s all mouth and no trousers. (Certainly not at the moment, anyway.)

I’d be pummeling him into the ground but I’m kissing him into the ground instead. (It’s a much better use of my frustrated energy.) He’s matching my intensity blow for blow, rocking up against me in a frantic rhythm, taking all that I’m giving him. 

I’m not scared of hurting him. Maybe I am hurting him—but from the way he’s moaning and crying out, I’d say it’s a good kind. And there’ll be time for tenderness later, time to be soft with each other. That’s not what this is.

This is something else. Pleasuring each other— _ using _ each other. It feels like a competition I’m trying to win, and I love it. Because I’ve never found a more worthy opponent.

Our mouths clash together, tongues battling. Baz is rutting up against me with precise, impactful motions—it’s just like how he fights. Calculated, planned. I don’t want him to plan. In fact, I want to absolutely wreck his plans. 

I want him a mess. I want him to beg for it.

“Harder,” he groans against my mouth. 

Everything’s hard edges, sinew and bones, up here by his shoulders, his collarbone. Everything’s hard edges at the points where we meet, hipbones thrusting together hard enough to give us both bruises tomorrow. 

I could nearly weep from how close I am, but it’s not  _ enough— _ and Baz didn’t want me to come yet. Which means he had a plan.

So on second thought, maybe I shouldn’t wreck his plans.

Everything’s soft down here, at the very tops of his thighs. The plush hair at his abdomen, the way it trails down into his waistband. Everything’s soft at the dip at his waist, the tender skin of his pelvis.

“Challenge accepted,” I tell his waistband, then tug at it with my teeth. Baz winds his fingers into my hair, scratching at my scalp. He moans low in his throat, lifting up his hips to assist me.

It’s more difficult than I expected—every time I manage to get one side down, the elastic snaps the other up—but Baz’s whimpers as my nose and lips trail along his skin make it worth it. I’m leaving a mess of kisses in my wake as I finally yank his pants down to mid-thigh, freeing his cock.

It’s gorgeous, because it’s  _ his— _ any body-part of Baz’s is one I love. I have no idea what to do, but I’ve improvised in higher-stakes situations than this. 

I kiss the soft skin at the base of his cock, prompting an involuntary spasm of his hips, a hiss of air escaping.  _ “Simon.” _

I look up at him. “Oh, did you need something?”

His face is twisted with need. “No.”

He’s too proud. I keep focused on my goal.

I move away from his cock, and he releases a huff of disappointment. I grin as I bite into his thighs again, making him squirm and whimper as I trace wet patterns with my tongue. I’m relishing the way Baz’s breathing is becoming more labored. His hands tighten in my hair, intensifying every sensation in my body.

I make quick work of taking him into my mouth, trying to imitate what he did to me. I don’t have a plan besides  _ dirty revenge,  _ but it seems to be working. He gasps, arches up. “Fuck, yes,  _ mm–” _

I wrap one hand around the base of his cock, stroking him off roughly. He groans again, low in his throat, releases a litany of praises. “More,” he demands, and I give it to him. Faster, deeper.

Vampire’s always been better at strategy than me, so I don’t feel bad for stealing his methods. I can feel when he’s on the edge—I didn’t expect to be able to, but his cock starts throbbing a different, frantic rhythm, and his orgasm builds up like a storm. At the very last minute, I pull off.

Baz groans in frustration and fists my hair hard, trying to pull me back down onto him, but I don’t budge. I want to hear him ask for it.

“What do you want, Vampy?”

I used to ask him that every night. Every time we fought.

He bristles at the nickname. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He never used to give me an answer then, either.

“Don’t be like that.” I lick a stripe up his cock, and a sigh shudders out of him. “Come on, tell me.”

“You know.”

“Not sure I do.”

He growls, letting his head fall back. “Simon.”

I look up. “Who?”

He bites his lip, fixing me with a sultry grey-eyed look. “Blade,” he whispers.

I really fucking wish we had our costumes. (So I could get him  _ out _ of his costume.) (Again.)

“Two can play at your revenge game.” My hands roam up his body, settling on his hips, his stomach, anywhere but the place he desperately wants to be touched. “What do you want? Are you going to tell me?”

His eyes, darkened with lust, find mine. “Make me.”

And if those two words don’t set me alight.

“Oh, I will,” I growl, and I attack again. I aim a hard kiss at his collarbone before grabbing two fistfuls of his hair and pulling, hard.

“Fuck,” Baz moans. I wrench his head back and start sucking down his neck, intent on leaving a trail of marks. He cries out when I bite down on his nipple, harder than I would for anyone else. I rake a hand down his back, leaving four red streaks in my wake.

Rough sex shouldn’t feel like familiar ground, but here we are. He’s utterly responsive, and if he gets off on stuff like this, well—it makes sense why he was so attracted to Blade.

When I’m Blade, I don’t let any of my softness show through. I feel like some of my humanity gets tucked away in the corner. Sure, I’m a good guy, but good guys can still be merciless. Baz says he feels the same, when he’s Vampire—so I suppose we match—and yet, we managed to find the cracks in each other’s veneers.

I force my hips against his and we both groan at the sensation. “Simon–” he gasps. 

I love it, I love how he’s losing himself. How he can’t even hold on enough to keep up the roleplay. 

I nip at his ear. “Try again.”

_ “Blade.”  _

“Fuck, you feel good,” I pant, grinding my hips down. I shift to the left as my hand skates down his body. He makes a pleading sound in his throat as my fingers dance along his pelvis.

“Did you want something, Vamp?” I ask again.

His breath is rough and ragged. “No.”

This feels like it always did. Merciless. Unforgiving. And I’m distracted thinking about that as I grasp his side, leaving reddened crescents with my fingernails, when he suddenly takes hold of my oversensitive cock.

Baz arches a brow and starts stroking me firmly, and I can’t help trembling. It takes all of my strength to stay suspended above him instead of collapsing into the sensation. 

“No fair,” I pant.

“If you’re playing dirty, so can I,” he responds. He continues with a smug grin, and I want to punch it off his face. 

I don’t. Instead, I shift into combat mode. Baz freezes when he feels my body tense, and I shoot him my best winning superhero smile before diving into a wrestling hold. I pin his thighs with a knee and slam my forearm down over his neck.

He grunts in surprise but is otherwise nearly unfazed. (We’ve been here before.) He attempts to buck me off, but not before I hit a pressure point on his wrist. It makes his fingers open up and release my cock, and in one smooth motion, I have his arms pinned across his chest and  _ his _ cock in my hand.

“You have to stop doing that,” he gasps.

“What?”

“Godlike displays of superhero strength.”

I bear down further, taking care not to actually hurt or suffocate him. “Why?”

“It’s terrifyingly hot.”

I release my holds on the rest of his body and lean closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. “So you like it.”

His eyes narrow. “I love it.”

“You gonna tell me now?” I ask.

Baz shakes his head.

Fine. 

I attack with renewed vigour.

I pin his shoulders and bite into his side, just below his ribs. He hisses, fingers scrabbling for the back of my head. “Want me to touch you here?” I pinch one of his nipples harshly, and he cries out. “Here?” I fondle his bollocks, then stroke the swath of skin beneath that. Baz whimpers as his cock twitches in my hand.

I kiss his stomach, hiding a smile, then lick up his inner thigh, drawing closer to his cock but carefully avoiding any contact. Baz makes a sound in his throat that’s close to a sob. “Please,  _ please,” _ he says.

I’m close to begging myself with how close I am—and I can’t even rut my hips, there’s no way I’m putting my dick anywhere near the forest floor. Rocks and sticks are digging into my bare knees. “Please what?” I murmur.

“Don’t stop,” he moans. 

It’s a start. I continue teasing him, licking small circles, nipping at his thatch of hair. An idea hits me, and I dip my face down to his cock, licking his bollocks. I suck one of them into my mouth—it’s not the most pleasant sensation, but Baz releases another hiss of air. 

I thumb the head of his cock as I run my tongue along his sensitive taint, and his back arches deliciously. “Simon, _ fuck,”  _ he whines desperately, roleplay forgotten.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Baz’s moans of desire, the way he’s fisting my hair as if trying to pull it out, the sexy way he’s biting his lip—it’s sending so much blood and heat rushing down to my cock that I’m starting to feel a bit lightheaded. 

I take my time teasing him, drawing the sounds out of him. I run feather-light fingers along his cock and his face twists in a grimace. “Please,” he says again.

I swipe my finger over the head, and I’m met with a low groan. “Tell me.”

“Simon…” His body quakes with tension, but he doesn’t say anything else. He’s drawing it out, too—like he enjoys being teased, which makes this entire thing all the more sexy.

And then I have another idea. Baz’s eyes pop open at my soft sound of pleasure, and his face flushes as he watches me stroking myself. His lips part as we make eye contact. 

“Don’t,” he says.

“Don’t what?” 

Baz’s eyes flash as he sits up onto his knees, pulling my hand away. “Don’t finish yourself,” he orders, and he takes my cock in his cool, calloused hand. “I want to.”

I want to touch him. But I won’t, not until he asks me to. “And?”

“And I want you to touch me,” he says in a low, dangerous tone. He guides my hand to his cock, and suddenly I’m under his thrall again. So I didn’t break him after all—maybe I wasn’t even close. Baz managed to turn what I’d hoped would be a plea into an order. (There’s always next time.) 

He’s moving his hand expertly, leaving my breath rattling already. He lunges forward to kiss me, then  _ pushes _ through, knocking me back into the tree. 

It only works because I’m not expecting it. 

Baz settles himself halfway onto me, his left knee pressing almost painfully into my right thigh. He holds my gaze with his. “Enough teasing. Touch me,” he whispers again. 

I start to jerk his cock—more roughly than I’d do to myself, but he sighs in pleasure and leans into me. I think dirt is starting to get into places it shouldn’t be. (We’ll deal with that later.) 

It feels good, but it’s an awkward angle so I can tell we’re both rushing. My wrist is starting to cramp up. Baz buries his head in the crook of my neck, breathing hard. I pull his hand off me and guide it to my hair so we can both just focus on him first. (I know. I’m a saint.) (It’s the superhero martyr instinct.)

“Come on, love,” I urge. I kiss him messily, digging my fingers into his back as he thrusts desperately into my fist. His hands scrabble along the back of my neck, then tighten on my shoulders.

“Fuck,  _ Simon,  _ I–  _ ahhn–“ _

“Let go,” I say, and his cock pulses in my hand as he comes. His cheek falls against mine, and he’s breathing raggedly, shaking as I stroke him through it.

He collapses against me a moment later, chest rising and falling hard. “Good?” I ask, rubbing a circle into his back.

Baz presses kisses to my eyelids. “So good,” he says, and then he’s pushing himself off and crawling down my body again.

“What’re you…”

He’s flushed so prettily and nearly glowing with some kind of magic post-orgasm haze. He gives me a burning look from somewhere around my hips, then wraps his mouth around me.

I nearly growl when he starts bobbing his head, taking my cock impossibly deep. I’ll not last long like this—he knows exactly what he’s doing, swirling his tongue, sucking a steady rhythm. 

“Oh, fuck, yes,  _ Baz,  _ oh my god,” I groan. 

I wind my fingers in his hair and follow along with his motions as he pushes me to the brink again. The pressure builds up so intensely it’s almost painful, and Baz doesn’t let up even a little bit. It’s almost too much, it’s  _ too much– _

I open my eyes in a moment of sudden clarity, right on the brink. I look down and Baz is already looking up at me, his gaze burning into me. The sight tips me over the edge, and I cry out as my orgasm ripples through me.

When I finally come down, blinking the stars out of my eyes, Baz pulls neatly off my cock and stares at me incredulously. It takes me a minute to get my breath back. “What?”

He shakes his head. “You’re so  _ fucking _ sexy,” he says, and I laugh and practically haul him back up by the hair.

We tumble around and kiss for a few more minutes, but it’s starting to get cold, and now that I’m not blinded by arousal, the forest floor is damn uncomfortable. 

Baz gestures at the mess on our stomachs. “Do you have something…”

“Yeah.” I crawl sideways and unzip the workout bag I brought. A moisture-wicking gym towel should do it. I pour some water on it from my bottle and gently clean Baz off, then myself.

I dangle it in the air, and he wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Just leave it here. Or bin it.”

“I’m not binning it, it was expensive.” He watches with some measure of horror as I carefully fold it up and put it back in the bag. I suppose it  _ is  _ kind of gross, and it’s not like I’ll ever use it at the gym ever again, but it’s the principle of the thing.

We finally clamber to our feet and I start laughing when I realise we both still have our socks on. 

Baz starts picking up our things—they’re strewn in a big circle around us, like we were summoning a demon or something. His hair looks like a dandelion puff, and I’m sure mine isn’t much better.

“So,” he says, pulling up his trousers, “shall we block the rest of the fight scene?”

I slip my shirt on, rubbing at a purplish-red love bite forming on my side. “Isn’t that what we just did?”

“As if I haven’t committed enough crimes,” he drawls. “Why not add public sex to the list?”

“I mean, if our goal is to cause a diversion…”

Baz clocks me playfully on the shoulder, and I reflexively grab for his arm. He grins and I tug him close, capturing him in a deep kiss. “As much as I’d love to do this instead of fighting,” he says, “we’re not the ones who need to be distracted on Monday.”

“But you’re distracting,” I complain.

“Let’s get back to the fight,  _ Blade,” _ he says, and my cock gives an involuntary  _ twitch. _

Oh,  _ fuck. _

“Fuck no,” I say, hastily adjusting my trousers as Baz bursts into laughter. “Fuck, no! It’s never going to be the same– God, I  _ hate  _ you–”

He’s doubled over and reaches out an arm to pat me on the back. “Tough situation.”

“This is  _ your _ fault,” I grumble. 

“You started the roleplay,” he insists, and squeezes my arm. 

“Debatable.”

“Will you be able to keep it in your pants if I call you Blade during the fight?”

“Shut up.”

Baz laughs again, then grabs my shoulders and turns me around. “So. Blade–”

“Fucking stop it.”

“Free yourself when I pin you, then face the crowd, and I’ll jump you from behind.” He wraps his arms around my shoulders.

“Right, and then?” 

“Then… should we end it here?”

I turn back around. “Yeah, should be enough time.” 

He nods. “So just stab me with your sword, and I’ll fly away.”

“Penetrate you with my golden blade?” I say, and Baz chokes and sputters, collapsing onto me with laughter. I start laughing too, until I nearly have tears in my eyes. “Sorry,” I gasp out.

“I hate you,” Baz says through an undignified sort of giggle.

“You opened my eyes to the potential,” I say. “I might as well embrace it.”

“I regret everything,” he says. He hands me my bag. “But I do like that idea. Maybe in a bed this time?” 

He’s like the definition of the smooth motherfucker meme. I press a hand to my face as it flushes what I’m certain is a deep red. “Um, yeah. Bed is good.” 

“Interesting,” he says, noting my flustered state. He takes my free hand as we walk back to the car.

“Shut up,” I say. “I’ve just never, you know–“”

“Penetrated anyone with your golden blade,” he supplies, and I lose it again.

“Stop it!” I wheeze through embarrassed laughter.

“Your words, not mine,” he remarks. His eyes cut over to me when I finally regain some composure. “Are you actually worried?”

“Not really.”

He tongues his own cheek, considering, then says, “Good. Because the evidence so far says you fuck like you fight.”

A strangled sound escapes my throat. “And– and how’s that?”

“Recklessly, fearlessly, and confidently,” Baz says, raising an eyebrow. “And I, for one, have no complaints.”

“I guess I’ve always been good at thinking on my feet,” I say, and he chuckles. “And for the record, so do you.”

“And how’s that?” he repeats.

“Evilly… and infuriatingly perfectly.”

He squeezes my hand. “Good to know we’re compatible, then.”

“Was there ever a doubt?” I say. “We’ve always had excellent chemistry.”

“Our alter-egos have.” 

“Same difference. We’ve been flirting for like, 9 months.”

_ “I’ve _ been flirting,” he corrects. “You’ve been waving your sword at me in all manner of inappropriately homoerotic ways.”

I snort. “Penny told me there’s no way for swordfights to  _ not _ be homoerotic.”

“She’s right.” 

The sun’s starting to set when we reach the car. “I still can’t believe it sometimes,” Baz says.

I belt up and he starts driving towards the underground tunnel. “What?”

“That we’re here. That you’re mine– that all this happened and we’re on the same side, somehow.”

“And that we’re literally plotting out a staged fight together,” I agree.

“And having sex in the forest,” he says.

“And having sex in your bed,” I say. He makes a surprised sound in his throat and I laugh. “In… approximately ten minutes.” 

“You keep a tight schedule,” Baz says, and he grins and slams the acceleration, speeding down the tunnel.

**Author's Note:**

> So Holding Out For a Hero is my superhero/villain AU. All you need to know for this scene is that Simon (aka hero “The Golden Blade”) and Baz (aka villain “Vampire”) used to be enemies, but have formed a truce and are together now. (So, not too far off from canon. Though with far more roleplay involved. 😂) During this scene, they are planning a fake fight as a publicity stunt, basically.  
> You can read the prequel piece, [Tipping Point](%E2%80%9C) (~2.5k words) to get more insight into their rivalry.
> 
> [](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159692)


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